Try (Again)
by Forbiddensoul562
Summary: Written from an idea that was offered to me which was: "Mello meeting Near years after the end of the Kira case and Near is not doing too well for himself. He's in a bad place emotionally and financially, and nobody from his original team is still with him." MelloxNear.
1. Fate

Try (Again)

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note or any of the characters used in this story. I also do not own any artwork that may eventually be used, or the title of the story itself, which comes instead from a wonderful song by Namoli Brennet.

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Chapter 1: Fate

Not once in Mello's entire life had he ever thought he would see this moment. In a single second, everything he had ever gone through, from suffering through the death of L, facing the horrors of the Mafia, and even losing the battle for Kira to Near… it all paled in comparison to the words being spoken to him over the phone now.

"I… I'm sure you're quite busy." Roger's weary voice started again after the momentary pause, his words strained with the tension of a man who was consciously aware of his own guilt in their relationship over the last ten years. Radio silence. The moment Mello had stepped foot off Wammy's property he had ceased to be the concern of Roger, or everyone else from the institution. Well… almost everyone. But now _this_? "I need you to come back to Wammy's."

Anything Mello could have possibly formulated as a response became tangled in the folds of his mind's shock at Roger's gall. Was he _really_ doing this? Now? "Excuse me?" He finally forced out in a heavy, frustrated breath. Mello stood from where he'd been sitting to cross the space of his apartment, coming to stand at one of the windows, his attention entirely focused upon the subtle static emitted from the other end of the line.

Every fiber of Mello's being screamed that he should hang up. Every sense in his body justified that neither Roger, nor anything involving _Wammy's_ was worth his time or attention anymore. He'd moved on, and so had they. Yet still he held the phone to his ear, waiting. Because despite how bitter he felt, despite how betrayed he felt merely hearing his voice, there was a familiar, haunting tone residing in Roger's voice. He'd heard that tone before…

… Back when L had died.

"If you could find the time to come back to Wammy's for just a little while. If I'm to be perfectly honest, things… have not been going well." There was a heavy exhale, "Near is not doing well."

Mello's grip tightened on the phone. Of _course_ this had to do with _him_. He'd been an idiot for even humoring the idea that Roger would ever call him about anything else. "Do you honestly think that I would ever go back there because things aren't going well for _him_?" Clearly ten years of silence had taken a toll on Roger's memory. "Good fucking riddance! He can go-"

"Mello."

"No. What the hell would make you think for one second I would deal with _him_?"

"Mello, you don't understand-"

"No, _you_ don't understand-"

"Near tried to kill himself." Roger's firm voice broke in.

Everything in Mello's world screeched to a halt. Suddenly the only thing that existed to him was Roger on the other end of the line, and those words which burrowed deep into his chest. " _What_?" He finally exhaled.

"It happened two days ago. He hasn't said a single word to anyone since then. Mello, I understand both of your history together better than most, but… you must understand that if there's anyone who could for sure pull _something_ out of him, it's you." He paused before adding, "If you would do this for me, I would be immensely grateful."

Mello's hold over the phone remained a vice grip while he tried to process everything that was being placed upon his shoulders. One thing was clear to him above all else: This wasn't about Near. Getting Mello's help wasn't about helping Near. It was a means of saving Roger's investment; to ensure the continuation of their work and the L name. Mello was the wrench that ensured the gear in the larger system continued to turn. The fact that Roger made no measure to hide that fact sent fire through his veins and again he humored the idea of hanging up.

But those words… They hung over him like a black cloud. Near was the absolute last person Mello would ever think prone to such destructive actions. So what happened? What pushed him to the edge and finally over it? What had been going through his head to justify such a thing? But more importantly was the question of what exactly Near's external reality had become which could foster such an option, much less make it seem viable to him.

"I'm not agreeing to anything." He finally replied. "If I were you I wouldn't hold my breath. But I know where Wammy's is if I decide to come to your damn aid."

He hung up. His arm dropped down to his side, but he couldn't bring himself to move away from the window. What was he going to do about this? What was he to think about the institution that had raised him, and then cast him out, suddenly seeking _his_ help?

In the next moment, there was a shifting movement from the other side of the room. "So, what's going on?" Matt's voice spoke up from where he sat on the couch surrounded by laptops, yet with his nose practically pressed against a handheld game screen. In the midst of his world being thrown just slightly off its axis Mello had almost forgotten that the redhead was even in the room.

He finally turned and went back to the chair he'd been sitting in before, his thoughts pulling apart the knots of all his options. "I guess things haven't been going well for Near as L." He said distractedly. Although Roger hadn't explicitly said it, that seemed to be the only logical explanation for why Near would make such a drastic move. But that only raised more questions.

"So?" Matt asked, resting back and mashing buttons on his game.

Mello's look flicked over to him from where he had previously been staring blankly out at nothing, "Roger wants my help."

Matt glanced up at him momentarily, "Right, because that idea has gone over _so_ well in the past."

"No, it's not like that." He shook his head, "This… this is different." He muttered vaguely and almost to himself. As much as he wanted a bit of insight into what he should do in this situation, it simultaneously didn't feel right to put the whole truth out there. Even to Matt.

Matt paused once more, sensing his friend's unease, "So… are you going to go?"

"I don't know." He admitted in an exhale, unable to shake the looming feeling in his chest that no matter what he could figure for himself, there was still something else behind the scenes that Roger wasn't telling him.

"Why not?" Matt responded with a shrug. "Wouldn't this sort of be their way of admitting even a fraction of defeat? Sure, you still might not be L, but clearly Near's seriously screwed _something_ up to the point that rather than seeking any outside help, they're coming to _you_. Besides, Mels, I've never known you to pass up an opportunity to rub any sort of victory in Near's face."

Mello was silent, his look trained on Matt. Matt had a point, in his own way… Regardless of what had happened to Near specifically, _something_ external had pushed him to the point where there was no other option. To say that Mello wasn't curious to know what it was would be a lie.

If Near had failed at something and now _Mello_ was the one who had to fix the mistakes for once… who was to say he _hadn't_ in some way won? And at the end of the day, every win deserved its own moment of celebratory victory. And as Matt said, he was never one to pass up such an opportunity.

"Well since you put it that way…" He finally said, "I never thought I'd say this, but it looks like I'm going back to Wammy's."

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A/N: This fic came to me at the recommendation of someone on tumblr, and though I know it's not exactly the story(-ies) everyone probably has been waiting for, I simply can't pass over such an excellent idea as investigating what would happen if Near didn't actually do well as L. So I figured I would start this, and post to it when I can and see where it takes me. I know that this is just an introduction and provides very little, but regardless I would still appreciate hearing any comments you may have so far.

Please review  
 _-Forbiddensoul562_


	2. House of Cards

Try (Again)

Disclaimer: Please see Chapter 1 for full disclaimer.

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Chapter 2: House of Cards

The crosses positioned upon the roof ascended into the heavens, a stark black contrast against the overcast sky and the snowflakes falling obliquely like ash around him. Looking at them now, Mello remembered spending countless afternoons staring at them and questioning to himself whether they were arrogant signs that the institution was conducting the work of God, or whether they were merely a gaudy accessory to conceal the devil hiding inside.

Standing just outside the orphanage gates sent nightmarish memories rushing through his system like fire that had found the trail of oil. Standing there now, staring up at those crosses, he swore he could even smell smoke.

 _'What the hell am I doing?'_ He asked, exhaling a white cloud from his nostrils. Matt had said that this was the best decision; that this was what he _needed_. He'd said that this wasn't about Mello at all, or even about his _history_. This was about the institution itself. This was about Near. And above that, this was about victory, and finally achieving everything he'd ever wanted since he was a child.

But if that was true then why did standing just outside it's gates fill him with such gloom?

Somehow it felt almost… fitting. Staring up at the façade he could feel it tearing away at the brittle shingling of the sense of self he'd constructed around himself after leaving its premise. It was a masochistic torment. But then, what part of his life hadn't been? In the end that felt like the only reason he could finally muster the courage to push open the wrought iron gate and make his way up to the awaiting stronghold.

Upon reaching the main entrance he pushed open the door before he could be overcome by any thoughts set on reminding him of all the reasons he had vowed to never return to this place. A surge of warm air rushed out to blanket his chilled bones. The immediate sight that greeted his blue orbs was a refreshing drink to the memories he'd held onto for so many years, and for a moment Mello found himself wondering if maybe… just _maybe_ everything that'd happened after he'd left Wammy's had been nothing but a bad dream.

Everything looked the same as it had back when he'd lived here as little more than an unruly teen. His boots squeaked against the same polished light wood floor. The same white and half paneled design covered the walls. Even the positioning of the furniture all appeared to be in the exact same place, consumed now by the musky smell of burning wood and childhood innocence.

 _'Something's not right here…'_ Mello told himself as he gazed around the area, _'But whatever it is, it goes much deeper than just whatever is happening with Near.'_ Everything appeared in its proper place, yet the air was heavy with the words nobody wanted to say to each other; and much less to _him_. In a way, it was British repression at its finest: never breaking face to admit when things were going wrong, even when the world itself was on fire.

In any other situation their attempts at containing it may have worked had Near not sent out his own SOS signal.

"Can I… help you?" A woman's voice appearing from the side broke through Mello's focus. His attention moved over to the young woman now standing in the doorway between two rooms; her large deep brown eyes surveying him suspiciously.

 _'Well… At least some of the staff are new.'_ He thought, feeling his own gaze on the woman bordering on the same amount of suspicion she was sending him; as though finally locating the new factor within the otherwise unchanged realm was far too jarring for him to believe.

"Roger called me here. I know where his office is." He stated simply, beginning away from the entrance and leaving her to process the surely unexpected words.

With each step, Mello felt himself become further entrenched in his memories once more. How many times had he made this same trip to Roger's office? Each move reminded him of another mischievous prank he'd pulled which had earned him endless lectures from the old man. With that said, he found himself surprised that Roger was still working here at all, considering his age. He was certainly devoted, Mello had to give him that.

When Mello finally reached the formidable wooden door, he found himself paralyzed in place. What exactly was he supposed to do now? History told him to ignore social convention and barge into the office without so much as knocking. But the years apart, plus his added maturity told him that such a moment required he tread with more care than he would have in his youth. The world was no longer his to conquer and bully into submission and he needed to treat it with more respect.

He knocked, listening until he heard the familiar, muffled sound of Roger's voice muttering a simple, "come in." He pushed the door open, entering the office he hadn't set foot in since that fateful day when his world had cracked and broken down around him. L was dead, and Near had won. But now… L was in shambles, on the precipice of life and Mello had won.

Oh, how the mighty had fallen…

Roger looked from a folder of papers, up over the rim of his crystalline glasses, "Mello? So, it seems I was right to hold my breath after all." He offered with a small, warm smile, "Still, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't equally surprised you came at all."

"Not nearly as surprised as I was you called in the first place." He muttered, hearing the way the bitterness seemed to drip off his words as he came to stand before the large desk.

Roger sighed heavily, his demeanor shifting as his eyes closed for a long minute. "How have you been, Mello?" He asked as his eyes slipped open once more.

The blonde's form tensed under what he perceived as the man's scrutinizing gaze. "Don't, Roger. You lost your chance to 'catch up' a long time ago. You don't have to pretend you _care._ Besides, you wanted me here for a reason so let's get straight to the point. Tell me what's going on." The time and history between them was at once reduced to little more than a business deal. The years apart had taught Mello better than to allow history to cloud his line of sight to the goal.

A silence settled over the two in which both attempted to compile all that they wanted to say into some semblance of a natural order. "There's… a lot that needs said." Roger exhaled once more. "For the sake of time it would be sufficient to say that since the conclusion of the Kira case our organization, and that of L, has not exactly fared well."

Roger had made mention of such a fact when he'd called before, yet hearing it still seemed to shake the blonde on a fundamental level. Wammy's House and the unimaginable power behind L had always been an absolute in his life. Like the law of gravity, it was unquestionable. But then, he supposed even gravity itself could be disproven given the right conditions in the universe. "Why?"

"Becoming involved with the Kira case brought the power and use of L into the public eye and subsequently their knowledge. After witnessing the chaos wreaked by Kira, and in addition what's perceived to be the inefficiency of L, there are many who employ his services whether due to fear of what it might say about them, or their country or because they believe it would do more harm than good. There was, and still exists a lot of fear among the people surrounding Kira's return, after all." Roger answered as though it was all so simple, so perfectly calculable.

In that moment, Mello regretted having asked for Roger's input on the matter. True as Mello knew it was that people around the world still harbored their own paranoia regarding Kira, or even the justice systems of their countries.

But that alone didn't seem as though it would be enough to lead to the decline of L, and much less Near of all people. Near wasn't so weak as to be brought down by a changing social climate. That meant that in the end it was Near's viewpoint alone which would be most valuable in his investigation.

"So? What do you expect _me_ to do about that?" They'd competed and Near had ultimately won. This was _Near's_ fight, and _his_ mess to clean up. It hardly seemed fair to use Mello's abilities only when it was convenient for their agenda. But then, when had Wammy's ever known the meaning of the word 'fair'? When had the world ever known fairness, let alone shown it to him?

Roger shook his head as he stood up and moved around the desk to go towards the door, "I don't expect you to do anything about the position we've found ourselves in. I understand that it's no longer any of your concern one way or another."

"Then how exactly do you figure that somehow Near _is_ my concern?" Mello practically spit at him. He'd forgotten how much he hated going around these circles with Roger…

"As I previously stated, if there's anyone who can get Near to talk, it's you. Somehow this situation… has taken a drastic toll on him. I can't even begin to help fix it if I can't get at what's going through his mind."

 _'Somehow.'_ Mello repeated, hearing in that word alone the sheer size of the mental and emotional disconnect between Roger and the younger successor.

The longer Mello spent here the more painfully obvious it was becoming to him that Roger didn't understand Near at all. And it was for that reason that Roger would never amount to anything close to the level of skill and partnership that had been shared between Wammy as Watari for L. Wammy had understood L through and through. Roger cared only for the status and perpetuating of the title. The fit just wasn't right and the same history just wasn't there between the two and each word Roger said seemed to be just another nail in the coffin of the definitive causes.

"What if there's no way to fix it?" Mello said in a tone hardly above a whisper as the two of them exited the office and into the empty hallway.

The older man paused long enough to shake his head, "We'll deal with that situation as it arises, then. For now the first priority is to get him talking again, and to get an understanding of what is going on in his head to cause this in the first place. Why this? Find that out, and I will take care of the rest." He instructed.

Mello bit his tongue to stop himself from asserting the point that such a task wasn't quite so simple; that _Near_ wasn't that simple.

Wishful thinking said that perhaps in any other instance Mello could merely insert himself between Near and whatever was on the other end of his mental focus; by engaging them both in nearly ritualized movements that each knew and understood to fight a distinct enemy. But Mello was realistic enough to understand that that wouldn't work now. Not when what lay at the other end of Near's battlefield was his own mind. How could Mello ever hope to find space between that?

Somehow he would have to if he was to get his answers.

They ascended the grand stairs up into the higher levels of the building, passing the bedrooms of the orphans as they did so. Seeing them made him wonder, "If this ends up taking longer than a single day… Where exactly do you expect me to stay? My old room?" He looked quickly down the hall to the closed door of his own childhood room, wondering if it too looked almost the same as when he'd left it.

Roger shook his head, "We have a lot of children here, Mello. Obviously your room was given to another child, so that won't be a feasible option. To be perfectly honest I think it'd be best if you stayed with Near. It's realistically the only open space we have available, and likewise I think it would be best to remain close to ensure that nothing serious happens to him again while the situation is being stabilized."

Mello's insides churned as he found himself wondering whether Roger had merely goaded him here to be Near's handler. That wasn't why he'd shown up here, but more it felt like that was what Roger was forcing on him. "He's not _my_ responsibility, Roger. I'll find somewhere else to stay." He practically grumbled at the end.

As they continued up to the highest floor, Mello suddenly found himself forming the question that had plagued him since Roger had initially called him. As though the closer they moved to the source of this predicament the harder it became to hold back the waters of his curiosity. Yet it felt like such a haunting topic to discuss aloud, let alone even think about. "What exactly happened, anyway?" He looked over to Roger, "What did he do?"

The two of them finally stopped outside the one door in all of Wammy's that Mello had hardly ever been inside; the mere sight of it sending a frigid shiver down each vertebrae of his spine. Suddenly Mello felt ripped away from the present, placed against his will back into the body of his childhood self who had always felt utterly shadowed by the intimidating force emanating off this place.

L's old room.

He shuddered, _'Once he acquired the title it'd only make sense that he'd inherit his space, too.'_ Mello rationalized. But at the same time, _'How can Near even stand to be in that room, let alone live in it?'_

"If you really want to know you're going to have to get him to talk and find out yourself. Find out what you can and bring the information back to me. That's the only way this can be resolved." Roger stated plainly.

To the old man this matter was just that simple… there was no humanness to the justification behind his rationale. As more and more of the demonic reality that lay within the heart of the system became known to him, the more Mello felt a tug at his heart to simply turn and leave without giving Roger the satisfaction of perpetuating such a heartless system.

But this was no longer just about himself. Near's SOS had brought _him_ here. Near too was a victim of the system, and now much deeper entrenched than Mello was and in one respect or another the younger must have known that. But what did either of them expect _Mello_ to do?

"You're putting a lot of faith into a history that has always worked against your goal." Mello finally replied.

Roger was quiet for a long moment, during which it seemed through the silence each knew only how to revel in the memories of their shared past as the common bond between each other. Finally, Roger turned back the way they had come to leave Mello with his assigned task. "I've been doing this for a very long time, Mello. I'm putting my faith where I know it will serve best."

That was the end. A near silent admission by his childhood caretaker that, for all the time he'd spent around Near, he still hadn't acquired the skills or communication necessary that Mello had. It felt… like an isolating honor. The world, _their_ world believed that Mello was the only one able to handle a situation of this caliber and at once the life he'd built for himself outside these prison walls was reduced to a space large enough for only the two of them.

Yet still he felt a growing weight upon his heart which worried that perhaps he in fact didn't possess the needed skills to live up to such high expectations.

But what other option did Mello have but to face this head on?

He entered the room, the opening of the door releasing a wave of cold air that begged to question whether there was any barrier between the room and the outside world. Letting the door's latch click closed behind him he noticed the atmosphere consumed by the weight of death itself. The stale air seemed to grip the blonde's lungs with the intent of extracting any level of life within him while the only light in the room filtered in from the outside through a wide window that was partially shrouded with drapes.

If the ghostly meanderings of the falling snow outside were the ashes of burnt dreams, then suddenly Mello knew he had found its source.

The room itself seemed almost entirely bare other than the sparse pieces of furniture serving to make the space seem less forsaken by the rest of the organization. Though in that aspect it was failing entirely. But it was the extensively constructed wall of cards circling most of the room, standing at about four feet high, which took hold of Mello's attention. The holed, fragile walls were the physical representation of Near's defenses against some form of threat on the outside.

Through the house of cards that depicted the younger's mental state, Mello could see where his childhood rival sat facing away from him; the subtle movements of his shoulders suggesting that he was working on another section of the wall.

The image before him was haunting. He lacked the usual air of power that normally resonated off his person, nor was there any sense of the visual superiority or control he'd always commanded over everything short of God Himself. What Mello saw before him was little more than the fragmented pieces of the dominating power who had once held the threads of all the world's powers at his fingertips.

This wasn't Near.

No… this wasn't _victory_.

This wasn't what winning was supposed to feel like… this hollow chasm penetrating his heart and perhaps into his very soul, permeating down into the very grip Mello had held over his once stable base of reality. But in this single suspended moment of time none of that mattered.

If he was going to get any of the infinite questions answered; if he was to _fix_ this current state that Near had fallen into, then these walls simply would not do.

His foot moved towards the intricate construction and with just the slightest amount of pressure the toe of his boot nudged the side of the card wall. The extensive structure began to fold and collapse in a wave moving outward in both directions down to the ground until all that remained was a satisfying ocean of cards scattered between the successors.

Near's actions came to a screeching halt the moment the flutter of cards reached his ears, his form tensing up and curling in on itself. But not a single sound was emitted from him. Not even a single seething utterance of Mello's name was released, as he had expected. There was no swear, no curse thrown to the air over his own work's sudden destruction. Nothing but the perpetual passed between them.

 _'Fuck…'_ Rarely did Near ever miss the opportunity to exchange such verbal jousts with the other; a chill shot down Mello's spine, the gravity of the situation becoming increasingly real to him by the second.

 _'He's trying to prove a point.'_ He heard a small part of himself rationalize. _'He just wants to prove that even I can't break his silence. Bastard.'_ His brow creased and he had to look away momentarily to push the thought out of his mind before it really took root and painted his subsequent actions.

Realistically he knew that Near's silence demonstrated just the opposite. There was no doubt that Near knew Mello was the one standing behind him, for there was no one else who would dare infringe upon the detective's space, let alone so blatantly and unapologetically destroy his creations. But his lack of response proved that Near was not willing to follow in the cyclical track of their history; that they could not merely rely on one another's reciprocated moves thrown back and forth like some deadly game of tennis to solve their problems.

This was human. This was visceral. This was now a matter of survival and for that reason, if Mello was to get anywhere even close to his goal he would need to construct an entirely new foundation upon which he could build a bridge to connect their long-separated continents.

He exhaled the breath that had been locked within his lungs. "Well, you're stubborn as ever." He said as he began to cross the room. "I _know_ you're pissed off."

He moved before the younger successor, immediately feeling those slate gray eyes locking on him, following his every movement until the blonde finally took a seat on the wooden floor across from the younger. It was only then that he could really take in Near's appearance, which had previously existed within him as little more than the stagnant image burned into his mind the last time he had seen him -at the end of the Kira case.

The image presented before him now was entirely disconcerting.

The features of Near's face seemed almost hollow, the once childhood innocence he'd somehow retained for so long existing now as nothing more than a pallid shadow covering his thin frame; alluding not only to his own sense of self but a more physical lack of nutrition. His gray, abysmal eyes were little more than pooled voids, black holes set within lackluster fair skin to swallow the light of the world with absolutely nothing to show for it. His hair had grown longer since the last time Mello had seen him, left uncut the unruly locks hung over his eyes, precariously pushed to not obscure his vision.

How had Roger allowed him to get to such a point?

 _'Free will.'_ He suddenly told himself, despising the bitter taste it left in his mouth of what such a realization would mean for Mello's role in all of this. _'Roger put too much trust and control in Near knowing how to handle himself despite the downturn his efforts were having.'_ How idiotic could this institution get?

"You look like hell." He finally said to break the silence settling between them. Still there was no response from the younger genius, instead he looked down to the rubble of his defenses and began to construct each precariously aligned card pyramid again.

Mello allowed him to align two of the pyramids together between their forms before he reached forward and pushed them both over; Near shot a glare up to him as he finally continued, "Roger called me."

There was nothing from the younger, yet the lingering expression somehow still seemed to say: _'I know.'_ Of course he did… Who else would have figured to bring Mello of all people into something like _this_?

"I know what happened." The blonde hesitated for a moment before forcing himself to continue saying what needed to be said, no matter how hard it seemed to formulate the words themselves, "I know what you did."

Near's look turned shifted to one harder and defensive for but a second before it ultimately fell to the floor and he again began the construction of his wall to separate them. For the moment Mello allowed it.

"Never would I have thought that you, _perfect_ you, wouldn't be able to handle the title of L. You know L would be rolling in his grave if he saw what you've let it become. Roger won't even tell me all of the details and still I know that."

Moment by moment Near's head began to tip forward just a bit, almost unconsciously, till his unfocused gaze became obscured completely by the strands of his white hair; his shoulders curling over under the added weight of Mello's words. The resentful childish side of the older successor urged him to keep piling reality onto Near's shoulders. But neither of them were going to get anywhere if he allowed himself to make easy jibes.

The blonde then leaned forward and knocked down the delicately balancing cards, but this time he reached between the vast ocean of space to take hold of Near's chin and guide him upwards until their eyes locked again. "You fucked up. I don't know what you did, but the point is that it happened and there's nothing you can do to take that back now. It _happens_ , Near. But the results it led you to… what you did… it's nothing short of immature."

The glare sent by those endless eyes were sparks on his skin struck with flint with the intent of making fire. But Mello had felt _real_ fire, and had been subjected to the slow, cruel incineration Near could produce.

Blue orbs were firm and unfazed, consisting inherently of the water necessary to counter Near's silent assault. "You're better than this. I _know_ you are. I've seen it." The silence was deafening, any critical words becoming lost in the void that consistently obscured both of their intents. But there was nothing more Mello wanted than to tear it down to reveal exactly what lay at the core of Near's thoughts, his worries, his demons.

"Roger called me in to deal with you. That's what you've let this come to. That now I had to come all the way across the fucking ocean to deal with _your_ screw ups. At the end of the day, Roger realizes that he may be willing to let you drive yourself into a hole, but _I'm_ not.

"So, from now on consider yourself under my direct control."

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A/N: Originally I'd wanted to end this chapter later, after Mello gets Near speaking again in order to dissuade any thoughts that the direction of this story would be that Near would in a sense be mute for most of it. But after editing this for nearly 9 hours, and after having the epiphany that became the ending of this chapter (and thus the _actual_ sort of guiding direction of the story) I decided it could safely ended. So, I have spent an exorbitant amount of time scrutinizing over this to make sure that at least most of my concepts are clear. In the end I'm still not sure how well I achieved that goal. But I would still appreciate any comments you may have regarding your thoughts on the story, the style, or anything of that sort!

Please review  
 _-Forbiddensoul562_


	3. Blood Contract

Disclaimer: Please see Chapter 1 for full disclaimer.

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Chapter 2: Blood Contract

The successors had known each other for almost 20 years, and had been privileged with the chance to watch one another rise to greatness, to learn one another as one knows their own shadow, and fight with passion that only rivals can know. Near was, and had always been the single source of steady ground among a world seeming to be constantly overtaken by earthquakes. The years and the attention to detail Mello had paid to him allowed him a window to see beneath that veneer, to where each of Near's own cracks lay; such a knowledge becoming enough to prove that the younger was human, and not some robotic unstoppable force.

But now… Mello wished someone had told him, all those years ago, that when he unconsciously signed up to be tied to someone like Near, the catch written into the fine print was having to bear the burden of being the only true sole witness to one another's inevitable downfall. Near had watched him fall, and now he supposed it should be righteous justice for the tables to turn.

But that wasn't how it felt… This wasn't justice. This was nothing short of the embodiment of cruelty pulling Near's strings.

Mello wasn't about to let that show, though. He was more professional than that. Firm and steady azure orbs seemed to blend together with wary gray into some unspeakable amalgamation of both figures searching for some stable footing among such an inverse world. How many times would Mello have to remind himself that he never imagined he'd ever see Near reduced to such a state by his own hand? Perhaps just enough for it to finally register as his new reality.

He finally released Near's chin from his hold, lazily sliding back to rest with his hands on the floor, supporting the weight of his upper body; all the while never letting his stare break from the younger. After all, his old competitive nature was no so easily broken as through a shift in their dynamics and an overturn world.

"I'll take your silence to be your agreement to the terms, then as otherwise someone as opinionated as you would surely voice any complaints." He said. "But just to clarify the point: I will pull you out of this rock bottom of yours, and in exchange you will do whatever _I_ say to get you there. Got it?" A smirk cracked his features as he watched Near's jaw lock tight, as though it was his last defense against speaking out.

Such a persistent silence worked to Mello's benefit in this moment, but it would be a lie to say it didn't likewise make him infinitely curious to bear witness to. Near was _always_ the first take any opportunity to shoot his plans down. So what could possibly be holding him back to such an extent? What was the importance of keeping such a vice grip over his own silence? Could it really be so simple as him trying to childishly avoid having to answer questions, or own up to the state he'd put the institution in?

Whatever this was, it was nothing short of irritating and Mello wanted nothing more than to tear this veil of his to pieces.

Near finally broke their locked gazes in order to look off to the side, towards the scattered debris of his protective wall. Those abyssal, sunken eyes suddenly appeared utterly unseeing to either Mello's presence or the rest of the world around him. It betrayed the mistrust laden within his heart that said Mello wasn't worth recognition; that Mello couldn't hope to understand what was happening to him.

It was as though he was telling the blonde that he could no longer rely on their shared past as a means to connect them anymore. Their realities had drifted so far apart, and had become so much more complex than simple rivalry that he could never even fathom all that plagued him now.

And suddenly, Mello felt a part of his heart grip within the confines of his chest… afraid to admit that maybe Near was right. After all, he always had been in the past.

Near shifted, his gaze remaining pointed away from him as his arm rose up to twirl a strand of his hair; as he did so the loose sleeve of his white shirt fell away and in that moment Mello's attentive blue eyes had nowhere else to fall but the dull white bandage covering Near's wrist.

At once his heart plummeted into the infinitesimal void of his center and a wave of nausea crashed over him. Every ounce of his bravado melted off of him and slipped down between the cracks in the old dark wood floorboards.

It was the feeling of reality finally taking hold of him. Roger's words and everything he'd seen to that point were mere specks of dust in comparison to how harshly those bandages burned their way into his retinas. They alone seemed to hold all the weight of the entire world, now fractured under Near's buckled hold. It wasn't until that frozen moment in time that Mello realized… maybe Mello's own world had become fractured by his actions, too. This was all becoming too much to handle.

"I'll be back." His voice came out strained as he fought back the stutter that was quickly ascending to the surface as he stood up. Gray orbs landed on him again, no doubt hearing the sudden unease in his tone, but Mello couldn't bring himself to pause even long enough to register what lay within the look. "Don't go anywhere." As though he realistically would, and they both knew it, yet still he felt the need to say it. Anything to kill the heavy silence.

He moved across the room, out through the door and into what seemed to be the real world, again; a world that didn't know, or at least recognize the one-sided war being waged on the other side of that wall.

The moment the latch clicked back into place Mello's entire body froze into a rigid statue, one hand remaining on the cold metal doorknob as though needing a link back to remind him that what he'd just experienced wasn't just a hallucination. His free hand took hold of his face as his head hung limp on his shoulders towards the floor. Silken blonde hair obscured any expression like a proper shield, but it did little to curb the weight that had taken residence within his chest.

That single sight was the final hammer against his contrived glass reality.

 _'What the hell am I supposed to do?'_ Sure, he could take control, he could command Near and force him to do anything he wanted him to. He'd known he'd had that ability over him since they were children. But this was _different_! What good would pure unbridled force do now? Would it pull Near out of his internal inferno, and even if it somehow did, would it ever _actually_ fix anything, or would it merely be a bandage over a leaking crack in a dam?

Not only that, but how the hell could he be expected to pull Near from a hell like _this_ when he himself had never actually learned how to entirely tame his own demons? Then again… advice _was_ a form of recycled nostalgia.

 _'Stop.'_ He commanded, bringing the nauseating swirl of thoughts to a temporary halt. _'Don't do this right now.'_ His tone was berating, but held an underlying sound of defeat along with it. Nothing about this situation was okay. It wasn't right, let alone _fair_ to be the one tasked with bearing witness to these moments, let alone be contracted as the one best suited to fix the situation.

This moment… this weight lying upon his chest was unlike anything he'd ever felt. It was like the moment a child comes to realize that their parents aren't the superheroes you'd always thought they were; that they walk, talk and _hurt_ just like everyone else does. It was the crushing feeling of childhood illusion ending.

 _'This isn't about me.'_ He thought as his head slowly raised again, his gaze unfocused on his open palm, _'This is about fixing whatever problem is going on here; I can deal with my own issues later.'_ He felt lost in the sea of this new reality, finding himself wondering if perhaps this had always _been_ reality and somehow he had just failed to notice it. Either way, the logical side of him dictated that regardless it didn't change the current objective.

But if Mello was to have any hope of getting them anywhere beyond their current position then he knew he couldn't be expected to work with the broken image that Roger had all but seemed to have abandoned in the attic of the institution. He'd first have to reinstate the image of power, to build it back to the memory that he knew must lay dormant within the younger. As best he could he would need to turn back the clock, back to the end of the Kira case, and start entirely over again.

It was improbable for Roger to merely allow him to continue slipping down into this hole with only his memories to grasp onto for safety. Near needed to be reminded of who he was raised to be, what he was capable of, and ultimately the necessity of L within the rest of the world.

It wasn't necessarily a sure foundation to be starting from, but it was a start, and at the end of the day anything was better than where they were all stuck at now. He couldn't entirely be sure what he was going to do, but in the very least he knew exactly how to begin spinning the clock backwards.

-:-

"Come on." Mello said simply as he returned to the confines of the outlying room, sparring not a moment of hesitation as he crossed the space as though it belonged to him, haphazardly pushing the prostrated cards out of the way to create an empty space near the middle of the room.

Near remained in his same position, hardly pausing from where he had begun to construct a new, smaller card wall around himself, rather than around the room itself. His world was becoming encroached upon, and as such his line of defense was quickly shrinking further and further downwards, and Mello wondered to himself what might happen if Near's walls were encroached upon too far. What would he do? What would he become?

He wouldn't let himself think about it, however, as though in fear of what he may do if given even the slightest chance to experiment with such a question. Instead he crossed the space, over to an abandoned desk where various papers had been scattered across the top.

He dragged the wooden chair sitting with it over to the vacant spot he'd created, afterwards going over to the dresser and pulling open the drawers. "Go sit in that chair." He commanded as he rummaged through the detective's belongings with little care to personal space. As far as he was concerned, Near had given up having any sense of privacy the moment he'd taken his own mortality into his hands.

Finally he found what he was looking for, pulling three large white towels out of the very bottom drawer; laying two of them out on the ground on around the chair. Yet Near made not a single move to get up, let alone even acknowledge he'd heard the blonde. Mello shot him a glare, "Come on. We're starting this work now."

Still Near's only movements were those contributing to the construction of his personal wall.

Mello released a heavy exhale in frustration. God forbid Near ever make things _simple_ for him… He moved over to the younger, kneeling before him to place them both on the same level, sparing not a single moment's worth of consideration as he reached out to push the wall over. Finally those gray eyes moved up to him, peering between long white strands with just a hint of a glare within them. "You're getting a haircut." Mello stated.

Finally his words elicited a response, slate eyes shifting to defensive confusion. But Mello's own remained firm. If they were to make any progress then this was a necessity, and not something he was willing to back down from.

He'd known Near for the better part of his entire life, and the knowledge which came along with that allowed him to read the subtle messages lingering in the shadows of his actions. The repetitive twirling motions Near made with his hair were a conscious move to try and steady his thoughts; to enhance them and make each mental formation translate clearer as they raced through his head with speed often too great to otherwise hold onto. Each motion was like adjusting the metal of an antenna; it was the only means he had to keep from being swept away by the natural currents of his own mind. The longer he let his hair grow, the more material Near had to work with, and subsequently it became that much easier for him to lose himself in such sweeping currents, in his own memories, in anything other than the outside reality.

But that wasn't who Near was. He didn't _need_ to use his vices to the degree that finally he all but forgot himself entirely.

The detective regarded him briefly momentarily before his body unconsciously pulled further away from him as though even just the added space would help his objection. Again he seemed to emit an air around him his stoic disposition which seemed to argue that Mello couldn't just do as he wanted; that he didn't understand what he was going through, and thus why he needed his hair as long as it he'd allowed it to be.

And maybe Mello _didn't_ understand all of this. But right now he wasn't willing to fight _that_ battle. _That_ wasn't important. What was important was focusing on what was playing out before him and working with what Near provided for him. "Look," He finally said, "You either go sit over there, or I shave every last inch of your hair off until you're bald. Your choice."

Near's expression remained entirely unfazed, as though the older successor's words had become little more than a dull hiss among the otherwise plaguing thoughts running through him. How exactly could he get to those afflictions? How could Mello get Near to actually _tell_ him what had happened, and what exactly was going on in his head? …Did he even possess the ability to bridge what had become such a wide gap between them?

Of course he did, and the rational side of him asserted that if he was to have any hope of reaching that point, it wasn't going to happen through violence and force. If Near was ever going to trust him enough to hand over total control then Mello would have to demonstrate that he _deserved_ it. He needed to prove that he could handle that level of dependency without abusing it; that Near was safe with him, that he could let his cracked veneer drop for the necessary few moments it would take Mello to understand the extent of his situation.

He couldn't just demand Near let him in… he needed to _earn_ Near's trust. Unfortunately he had a lifetime of conduct working against him.

Mello finally sighed, his eyes closing just long enough to calm the harsh fires of frustration burning within him, though he could still feel it smoldering, becoming the only quality staving off the bitter cold chilling his bones. "I know what I'm doing." He said. "Trust me. I've been cutting my own hair since I was a kid."

Still the younger was a statuesque depiction of hesitance. Of course Near would be so persistently difficult about _everything_.

Mello reached out between them suddenly, taking hold of Near's hand and placing the scissors properly in the grip of his fingers, guiding the open jaws up to the ends of his own hair. Time seemed to stop around them as their eyes immediately locked together, exchanging endless amounts of heavy questions and assured statements.

"I know I'm the _least_ likely person to be here right now trying to get you to trust me. But what you don't seem to understand is that when I tell you I'm taking the control away from you, I'm not doing it so I can use you like the institution has no doubt been doing to you." He paused, swallowing down every modicum of pride he had left, as realistically it was the only way he was going to get anywhere. "I'm trying to help you the only way I know how and you're just going to have to believe me. I wouldn't ask you to do anything that I wasn't willing to do myself."

 _Snip_

Mello's eyes widened just a fraction as he broke their stare, watching as bits of his hair that'd previously hung at the side of his face fell down to the floor. It was just the tips of the strands, and not enough to make a substantial difference in appearance, yet their presence against the dark wood seemed to be his own blood signature upon an invisible contract he hadn't realized Near had placed between them.

 _'Damn him.'_ He'd fallen right into that. _'Some things never change. He's still such a conniving bastard…'_ But it was a necessary sacrifice.

Near then moved the scissors, offering the handle out to Mello once more, shifting to stand up once the blonde took them from him, going over to the chair near the middle of the room. His actions all seemed… almost _too_ simple. _'He didn't object when I forced his agreement to the terms earlier. Cutting my hair must be his way of forcing me to agree to his own terms: that I won't make him do anything unreasonable.'_

Near took a seat, immediately pulling his left leg up close to his chest, and letting his eyes divert over towards the window as his fingers reached for his hair. The motion again revealed the off-white bandages covering his wrists; pulling at the fine strings of Mello's heart. But he wasn't about to let himself back out again and hinder any progress about to be made.

He too stood up, going over and retrieving the last of the three towels from where he'd abandoned it by the chair, "Sit normally. It'll be easier that way." Surprisingly, Near complied, letting his leg drop back down to the ground and his hand fall into his lap.

He draped the white towel over the front of him, folding it securely in the back and setting to work without another word.

Silence overtook the entire space, broken only by the quiet sound of snipping as Mello cut away the elongated strands of white hair. Each moment that passed seemed to usher the frigid air further into both of their bones, and the longer the older allowed it to persist the more he was reminded of what this room was: a haven, or even a _prison_ , for the greatest minds of the world. What a terrible prize to inherit…

If walls could talk what stories would they share of the time L had lived here? How many nights had these walls been the only witness to every instance of despondency their hero had ever experienced? How many nightmares had they seen him struggle through? What was it like to sit idle watching the world slowly crush down his spine into what became its unnatural curvature? How badly Mello wished he could see just a glimpse of what these walls had witnessed. Anything to have made L more of a real person instead of just a voice from a computer.

But then he thought… maybe he was seeing it. Maybe Near was the lingering remnant to the effects this space, and this _job_ ultimately brought about.

"It's hard to believe he used to live here." Mello heard himself saying in a tone that had fallen to hardly more than a whisper, feeling as though he was speaking not to his childhood rival, but to the only other person on Earth who _truly_ understood what it meant to live in someone like L's shadow. "It all seems so hollow now without his presence lingering around."

He snipped at the strands of hair at the back of Near's neck, shortening the unruly length down to mere short gentle, wavy curls resting just at the base of his neck. "This room used to scare the hell out of me when we were kids. I spent so many nights just trying to work up the courage to come inside. But it always felt like somehow he just _knew_ when I was here. I always had that unsettling feeling of being watched even when I stood outside the door." He inhaled a deep breath, moving then to section off and cut the strands of hair hanging at the sides of his head.

"I don't know how you do it." He continued with a sigh, "I don't understand how you could possibly stand living in this room on a regular basis. Even now it feels like he's still here; like he still watching and judging everything I do…"

"I heard him."

Near's voice was quiet enough as to almost be overshadowed by the sound of the scissors cutting through his hair. Mello's actions came to an immediate halt as the words registered and at once all his attention focused not so much on the fact that Near had finally spoken, but on what it was he was saying. "Who?"

"I heard L." Near continued, his voice remaining barely enough to break the thick air surrounding them, "After I carried out my final decision… while I was waiting, I heard his voice."

All semblance of air at once seemed utterly trapped within Mello's chest as he processed the words Near was offering, at once seeming to disregard any recognition that Near had ever been silent to begin with. In that moment what mattered was not that the vow of silence had been broken, but rather _why_ and _what_ exactly he had experienced to produce such an effect.

"What did he say?" He dared to ask, finally forcing himself to continue working to shortening the locks of white hair on each side, though now the same movements seemed laden with an almost mechanical approach as his attention remained vigilant over Near.

Near held onto the silence for a long minute and for a split second Mello found himself worrying that the detective would lapse back into his mute state just as quickly as he'd come out of it. But finally he responded, "It's nothing but a mental fabrication produced by my brain to save itself. It's not important."

"Near, tell me."

He sighed, "He said: 'Don't give up yet. You're doing fine.' "

Neither successor could bring themselves to say anything more, simultaneously reading through the thickened atmosphere to the thought they were both having. They had each experienced miraculous happenings that would have otherwise seemed nothing short of fiction: gods of death, notebooks that could kill people... Knowing that just those two facts existed, how could either of them be so quick to explain away the notion of the disembodied voice of their predecessor appearing.

Near finally broke the settling tension, "I can't help pondering over the words. Even if I suppose that what I heard was real… I can't begin to understand why L would ever say something so entirely erroneous."

So that's what this was. Or in the very least, it was part of the reason that Near had held his silence for so long. On some level he was allowing himself to process what he had experienced and understand what it ultimately meant. By the sound of it, though, it didn't seem that he'd come to any definitive conclusions.

Mello quickly checked his work on either side of Near's head to assure that his work was as even as he could get it. Then, he moved around to the front of him, reaching to the troublesome bangs that had hung before the younger's face and quickly cutting them away. Immediately it revealed those slate gray eyes that now were full of wonder and questions that Mello didn't yet have the proper answers for. But that didn't mean he wasn't willing to go find them if that was what was needed of him.

"He's not wrong, you know." Mello finally told him.

Gray orbs narrowed, "That's awfully ironic considering what you said earlier."

He shook his head, "What I mean is that you can't just…" he paused, the words harder to properly form then he cared to admit, "You can't get like this just because things don't go your way. I told you, you're better than this. You _know_ better than to let the game get the better of you. It's not like you." He paused, "What's going on? What's happened?"

Near regarded him for but a single moment before he looked away, his hand appearing from beneath the makeshift cover to reach up for the shortened locks of his hair. Immediately his look shot back to Mello, "You cut it too short."

The blonde chuckled, looking over his work, and even going so far as to reach out and push the strands about in order to make sure he hadn't missed any areas. "It looks fine." He concluded. It felt almost refreshing to see the snowy locks resting atop his head in a manner highly reminiscent of the length he'd always had when they were younger. His precise memory for details had served him well. "You'll get used to it being short. But I'm not above shaving your head if you're just going to keep complaining about my work."

Near's lips pursed, "Wouldn't you think that would only result in me complaining more? How many years has it been, and yet still you lack the ability to properly think things through."

"I liked this arrangement a lot more when you were mute." His arms crossed over his chest, watching Near become familiar with the new feeling of his shortened locks and letting himself consider the information he'd revealed. Had L really shown up after what he'd done? Maybe. It certainly sounded like something L would do, and something he would say. He always did seem to enjoy being rather cryptic with his messages…

But the ultimate point was that Mello was now in possession of that message, and if he allowed himself to assume that it had indeed been L delivering it to Near, and subsequently to Mello, then he was willing to work with that offering, however minute it was. "This is a good start. But we have a _lot_ more work to do." He smirked, "Welcome back to the real world, Near."

* * *

A/N: I don't even know what I'm feeling about this chapter. Originally it was supposed to go much longer than this, but I felt it was important to give the two of them this time together, for various reasons. Anyway, I don't know, somehow this chapter doesn't seem to live up to the expectations I had for it in a lot of ways. But what really matters is your opinion. So what did you think? Was it enjoyable? What do you think will come next? I'd appreciate any comments you have!

Please review  
 _-Forbiddensoul562_


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